


Slang with Me

by helena_s_renn



Category: Def Leppard, Music RPF
Genre: First Time, Idiots in Love, Inspired by a Music Video, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 14:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13273380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helena_s_renn/pseuds/helena_s_renn
Summary: On the set of the Slang video shoot, Viv makes himself seen for the seemingly oblivious Sav."If this Dick was going to show Viv off over Joe, then he'd better fuckingshow him offto his best advantage."Or: Alternate story-line for "Lay it Down..." How things might have happened had these two got together early on rather than pining for each other for 25 years.





	Slang with Me

**Author's Note:**

> Def Leppard wrote the song and appeared in the video. The real DL have nothing to do with this fictional nonsense. The characters' reflections/descriptions of each other are also fictional. 
> 
> This fic contains the following pretexts:  
> *Takes place on the set while shooting the video for "Slang".  
> *The time progression between sections of the fic is not necessarily linear. Some of the sections of text move backward and forward within the day. The effect is meant to be similar to the video itself: rapidly sequenced shots of the various band members, flashing lights, enough motion to make you dizzy. If it's difficult to follow, check out the vid as reference material.  
> *The characters are divided into two groupings: Sav/Viv as the main pairing; Joe, Phil & Rick as the "peanut gallery". The sections of the fic also go back and forth between the two groupings.  
> *To my knowledge, Sav did not shoot video footage, nor de facto direct any of the takes. In fact, a couple of the scenes or parts of scenes described in this fic have him or the headstock of his bass in the background. Acknowledged, but I'm blatantly ignoring this in the interest of the bunny.  
> *If all else fails, please read through to the end and it will make sense, in whatever way PWP makes sense. 
> 
> Beta/review by ChristianHowe. Any remaining errors are mine.

-1996

Until that day, Sav had kissed Vivian only once: in front of god, Sheffield, and everyone. When and where the disconnect lay, why there'd never been more, neither a natural progression from that little show of affection to heated looks and fumbling around to them eventually falling into bed together; nor some rapid, event-driven build-up that came to a screaming, climaxing head, Sav figured it had mostly to do with him. He was the one dumb enough to start looking at another bandmate funny, wasn't he? Again. 

Viv stood by his side and his alone every show, ran circles around him, worked like a dog to hone his voice to fit their harmonies - or to fit his, Sav's, since their voices were closest in range. He brought in demos, he was part of their writing process now... 

He wasn't what Viv wanted or needed, and why should he be? It would only complicate things.

Except for that one time, Sav never did or said anything that could be considered suggestive toward Viv, didn't stare too long or stand too close. He wanted to, felt his opened eyes burn but kept them clear and cool around their newest guitarist. Other than in displays of friendship for their audiences, he didn't touch. Couldn't stand the thought that, if it went wrong, he'd be the one responsible for making Viv run screaming from their midst. Instead, he and Viv tended to bitch and bicker like a pair of step-brothers too close in age to ever really get along. 

Today... from the moment they arrived on set, Sav just felt it. Something had changed. Or, he thought so. Viv kept sidling over and flashing his little crooked half-smile, his usual mocking taking on an edge but the cuts stung tart-sweet. Sometimes, not-quite-sure anticipation made things that much more interesting. 'Maybe,' he kept telling himself. 'Maybe.' 

...

"What's this song about?" their director, Nigel Dick, asked. Sav only thought of him as Dick from morning till night. The band all looked at each other, grinning.

"Sex," Joe spoke for them all. Typical.

"No... buttsex," Viv contradicted him.

"It is not," protested Sav. "Come on!"

Viv rolled his eyes. "Jaysus, ya prude, don't you read the lyrics you're singing?" 

Frowning, Sav pursed his lips. "Why yes, in fact I do. _'Don't wanna get my hands dirty... wanna get soaking wet'._ That's not... what the fuck did you call it? Butt sex." He said it like two words, and got laughed at.

"Like hell it's not." It was becoming a full-on debate. Viv turned to face Sav, ready to pony up his supporting arguments. "Just 'cuz you don't wanna get your hands dirty, doesn't mean you won't do it anyway. And then there's wet, and there's _wet._ " Capitalising the "w" by inflection, there was no mistake what he was referring to. The bassist narrowed his eyes. Hell, maybe Viv used that brand of slick when he...? No, Sav told himself, don't go there. Don't picture your lithe little bandmate naked and gleaming with his dick in his hand. It was too early in the morning for that.

"Alright, children, I think that's quite enough snark," Rick said archly. Everyone indulged him, and put on their video-shooting game faces.

...

"Jesus, what's he doing?" Joe muttered out of the side of his mouth, referring to Viv. 

"He looks like Tarzan." Phil sneaked another look over at the conveyors. "All he needs is a loincloth."

"Ew," was Rick's input.

"Rock star Tarzan," added Joe, answering Phil.

Rick, who'd so far laughed his way through another of their patented "rock concert for the room" shoots over the others' antics, was now looking a bit concerned. "Do you think he's stoned?" Whatever they did in their spare time, work was work.

Phil snorted. "You think, mate?"

Ever one to cut through the bullshit, Joe nodded sagely. "Higher than a kite. But I don't think it's drugs. Just look at that." The three of them hummed in unison. A moment later, Phil groaned, "Oh holy fuckshit!" and turned his back. Rick barked a laugh.

And Joe... he couldn't keep his eyes to himself. He wished to god he had a camera, besides the one, now in Sav's hands, that was trained on Viv.

...

The set was meant to look like the inside of one of those airport people-mover tunnels, complete with backward- and forward-moving floor pieces. The song was blasting over a make-shift PA, while they "played" their instruments to it - without amplification - and goofed off and mugged for whatever cameras were pointed at them. They'd done this so many times. Joe tossed his new longer one-length hair around and hung off the ladder. Right side up. Upside down. Phil strutted up the middle runway and chanted his rap. Lucky Rick, he got to sit down.

For some reason, Viv was having trouble satisfying the director. "No, too much hair," he barked again. Wait, what? Those spiral curls were a foot shorter than when he'd joined the band. Sav said so, fluffing his, kind of wishing he'd left it longer. "I need to see his face," said Dick. Then he looked around to Sav, who fought the urge to back away. "You. Go stand by camera three." He pointed: that was the one currently getting full body-length clips of Viv. "Alright. Again."

They counted off the scene, snapped the board. The music cranked up, loud. Viv danced a little, mimicked playing his guitar, just some power chords.

"Good. Again, but stand up straighter. Now let me see those eyes. You know you wanna."

Sav raised his eyebrows. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. All of their various directors had chosen a pet to showcase; it was finally Viv's turn. Before he could comment, Dick turned to him. "Now you, bass player! That's your thumpa-thump. Get him to ride it."

"Wot?" Sav snorted and cursed his fair complexion, which he could feel had turned pink. Damn, but this guy was outrageous.

"He gives you the best face."

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Like, he was insinuating Viv most wanted Sav to see his... performance. If Sav replaced 'face' with 'head', that was almost the implication. Only... not. Oh, what did this bloke know about it anyway? 

The other three were standing a couple of yards away, behind, in their own little cliquey huddle. Sav could hear them whispering and giggling. He wondered what Viv could hear over the whirring noise of the fans left on between takes. Enough, no doubt. He was looking at his shoes, biting his lower lip, twiddling his earrings.

The next two takes didn't get them much. More hair flinging and lip-syncing. Where had that little fucker found trousers like that: high-waisted, old-fashioned, fit him like a glove? They contrasted nicely with his snow-white tee, which left his tanned arms bare and... Wait, Sav wasn't supposed to notice that. But he did. If this Dick was going to show Viv off over Joe, then he'd better fucking _show him off_ to his best advantage.

"How about..." Sav spoke up, stepping totally out of line and out of character. He turned to Dick and attempted to vocalise his mental imagery. "How about if he sort of kicks and jabs at the camera, while he's holding the guitar?" This was quickly agreed upon; Viv stood closer, eyes directed straight into the lens, hair swinging left and right but mostly off of his face while they wrapped that up in three takes.

"Good, good, yes..." Then everyone was looking at Sav for the next idea. What the hell? 

"Set your feet far apart," he told Viv. "Dance like that."

Viv snorted at him. "What, spread me legs? That's your move." 

"Shut the fuck up and do it. It's gonna look great, the black," Sav gestured vaguely at Viv's trousers. What the hell were they? Velveteen? Damn! "Against all the white and silver in here." 

Viv pointed at Sav, pick held between his extended index and bent middle finger, and went for it. 

Just for a second, Sav went into some sort of rip'n'ride along with whatever Viv was doing, mouth half open like an animal scenting the air. He stopped himself. What the fuck was he thinking? Damn, but he was glad for his long shiny-vinyl coat. Viv was making him _hard_.

"Look like it's fun, though," was the direction for the next take. Viv's beatific smile while he lip-synced, " _All I ever wanna get is..._ " was a study of a man getting spectacularly blown, although he wasn't of course. If it got any worse, Sav was gonna drop to his knees. Not really. Maybe.

The next time through, Viv shook his hips and his guitar in opposing directions. What was Viv doing? No one was making him move like that. Dance like that. Like he was panting from the effort of... 

Someone snapped their fingers in Sav's face. There was the director again, now pulling him into a three-man huddle with them and Viv. Grown man or not, this was a stranger and Sav struggled with how to express what everyone - in the band - already guessed was next on the menu for at least one of them. "Um... well... It's a sexy lyric. He should look like... you know." They knew. 

"You mean like I'm comin'?" Viv enquired unnecessarily, the epitome of shit-eating grin.

Sav grunted, keeping his eyes on the director, "Yuh-huh. ...While he's playing, though." A few minutes later, there was another count and snap and the music came up loud again. Viv bent forward, half-crouched, keeping time with his entire body, sweeping a wide arc with the chunky neck of his Les Paul.

About then, Dick shoved a hand-held camera at Sav. "You do it. Hold it steady," came his voice from far away. Sav couldn't - he was swaying on his feet too damned much. Except... he could. Turning the device right side up, he put it to his eye and got right in Viv's face. He was in that... 'position' again, hunched over, guitar hanging low off its strap, and Sav was standing over him, looking down into his face. Three fans were blowing Viv's dark hair around, the angle making his eyes huge and indigo, mouth rose-coral and open enough to show his teeth.

What that director bloke had said... 'ride the beat' or something slightly more pointed. Viv looked like he was riding something, maybe Sav's dick, which was by now a burning brand in his silly striped leggings, fuck! 

....

At the back of the room, Rick and Phil were openly gawping; Joe sniggered at them. "Sorry, Phil. Your rap really is sexy as fuck-all, but he's upstaged you."

"Maybe they won't use any of that in the final cut." Phil knew better, though.

Joe agreed with the unsaid part, that Phil knew better. He watched, circumspect, as Sav hauled Viv off somewhere. By his posture and gait, Joe could tell that Sav was hiding a massive boner. Viv was hiding nothing, although his guitar sort of semi-covered it, thank goodness for that. Those two. Just one more notch on the long bedpost of inevitability, and about damned time. He wished he could follow.

Instead, Joe took up the subject of the forthcoming video again. "Did you get a look at that little blond co-producer? If people had captions like cartoons, she'd be like, _'wanna get soakin' wet'_ ," he chanted. "No, it's gonna make it into the video."

Rick cuffed him on the arm over his lyric usage, but his face had a wistful twist to it. "You think they're gonna bone?" he blurted.

The other two chortled. "I think they're bone- _ **ING**_ as we speak," Phil answered.

"But where?" Rick looked around, as if he could see through walls.

Phil grinned. "Nearest port-a-potty?"

Groaning, Rick muttered, "That is just foul!"

"You know you've done worse..."

Joe said nothing, only adjusted himself.

...

Sav had Viv by the wrist, practically dragging him through a maze of lighting and sound equipment, cables, instrument cases, and crew. He got no resistance. Viv was still wearing the Gibson, it had happened so suddenly, his hand wrapped around the neck close to the nut to keep it from knocking into anything. It looked absolutely phallic, Sav decided.

Their studio let out into a long, featureless hallway, doors right and left. He checked two or three sets before finding one that was unoccupied. Inside, equipment similar to what was being used for their shoot was scattered about, seemingly abandoned. "Put your guitar up, out of the way." Sav turned around, vaguely backing Viv into the nearest wall. They knew why they were there.

"Oh yeah? Planning on moving around a lot?" This guitar was one of the first Viv had obtained when he went back to Les Pauls from Strats. He drew it over his head and set it carefully down, flat on the floor. Nearby, a rack of vintage costumes caught his eye. A velvet smoking jacket provided padding for the neck and headstock. 

"We have lots of room, if we want." Sav gestured around. He actually didn't want to stand up for this - the day had been gruelling and he was ready to be off his feet.

Though they'd been doing it all day, or in the long-term, for years, they took a moment to size each other up, up close. "So, erm," Viv began, "who's--?"

"Me," Sav interrupted. "You've been baiting me all day, you know you have, and I'm taking payment for having to walk around hard as nails out of your arse." Major bitchface in evidence, he strode over into Viv's space and planted himself, feet far apart on the cement floor.

Viv giggled at him, hands on hips with his feet braced wide like Sav had 'directed' him earlier, mirroring him. "Alright, but I'm gonna get on top of you and ride your dick at some point, so deal with it." He flicked his hair back. "Did you get a load of that guy? 'Get him to ride your thumpy-thump' or whatever the fuck?"

Sav snorted. "Yeah. But that's inaccurate. Unlike some, I find no reason to name it." He glanced down at his crotch, then up again. "How about you get a load of _me_ now?"

"Not so fast, I think you forgot a few steps." Quicksilver-fast, Viv closed the gap between them, his arms going around Sav's neck loosely, pushing his hips forward. They both hissed at the contact.

"Well yeah, but you don't need a road map, do you?" With a jerk of his chin, Sav gestured to his right as he reached around low to palm Viv's arse cheeks, running his hands over the velvety material while the hard muscle beneath flexed. "I think that couch over there is calling our names."

Viv looked and nodded, even while shooting back, "You're gonna be calling my name..."

"'And you," Sav growled, tightening his grip. "Yer gonna scream mine when this," he shoved his dick against Viv's again, "tickles your..." Viv's tongue filled his oral cavity, his legs came up to clamp around Sav's waist, and suddenly he had no further interest in verbal back-and-forth.

Already off-balance, Sav stumbled and tripped his way over to the big, ugly, olive green couch so handily left there while they groped each other, Viv tugging at his clothes. "Stand down. Get naked," he ordered.

"Well, well, aren't you eloquent?" Viv teased, but he dropped his legs. In turn, Sav dropped the grey coat in a puddle of silvery latex; Viv's tee went next and he shook his hair out of his face to find Sav's mouth attached to his right nipple, fingers walking up his ribs and sliding down his spine. He arched and moaned, hands flailing for a moment till they landed on Sav's shoulders but he was already on his way down. Half a second later, his knees hit the ground.

Both of them fumbled with Viv's belt and zipper till Viv shoved Sav's hands away and undid the fastenings. Yanking the trousers down, Sav found himself face to face with tartan boxers. He rolled his eyes, even while he rubbed the side of his face against warm, damp cotton, nosing for the hardness below. "How did you even get those tucked in?"

Viv laughed. "Carefully. Let me guess what you have on under those grape-smugglers..."

"Oi!"

"Yeah, yeah, your reputation precedes you..." 

"Why don't you find out?" 

Viv kicked his way out of his shoes, then the tangle of trousers and boxers. "Oh, I will... and they're probably wet, too, with how fucking horny I made you... oh god!" His breath escaped him as Sav, still on his knees, pushed him down onto the couch and jostled his way between Viv's legs. 

It might've been vaguely threatening, the way that Sav had one hand wrapped around Viv's cock and the other weighing his balls, his teeth bared. "You did that on purpose?" he growled.

"You really are oblivious sometimes. All the time." Then Viv keened as a hot mouth descended on him. It felt damned good, natural, the practiced rhythm Sav used reminiscent of something, Viv couldn't place it - he was too busy moaning and grinding up into someone's lack of a gag reflex. "And you're really fuckin' great at that!" He let himself be indulged, closed his eyes and savoured the suction, lips circling him up and down, up and down, flicks of tongue across screaming nerve endings. 

The heat ended abruptly as Sav came up for air and hushed him. Viv hadn't even realised he'd raised his voice. "Best keep it down..." 

How was Viv supposed to do that with his balls being so thoroughly licked? He spread his thighs wider, lolled his head back, threaded his fingers into Sav's hair. That tongue did absolutely sinful things, things Viv was loudly begging almighty Gawd and Jesus Christ to forgive him for. 

Again, Sav tried to shush him. "You best get yer arse on this couch then," Viv bit out. He dove for his trousers, hastily pulled his wallet free of the tangle, unfolded it, tossed one packet to Sav and ripped another open. "We each take care of ourselves," he stated. 

"More fun the other way," Sav disagreed, finally peeling his skin-tight whatever-they-were down to his knees. Viv stared. Sav smirked at him. "Wot?" 

"What the fuck, did you wet yourself?"

Sav shrugged. "Nah, dummy. If you must know... I shoulda worn a condom or snuck away and..." his fist pumped a few times in a universal hand gesture. "This is how much you made me leak, and it's not pee, you twat." Uncovered, his dick was dusky purple, upright and shiny at the tip. "And this is what happens from being hard for four hours. Still gonna ride it or should I just bend you over?" 

"Sexy...!" Viv whispered, and then, "Hells yeah!" Either option sounded fine to him, but he'd been asked to choose. "Sit your bare arse down." 

The couch, besides ugly, was a 60's throwback and scratchy as hell against Sav's skin. He didn't care. Ripping the packet open, he scrambled to get the condom rolled down over himself and then to pull his shirt off overhead. Unable to do otherwise, it was too magnetic, he kept his eyes on Viv, who'd hefted one high-arched foot up on the armrest and was thoroughly prepping himself, one arm reached around behind, his junk eye level to Sav's face. Sav could see the finger, then two and three, going in and out of him. It was totally freaking obscene. "Viv..." 

"Huh?"

"Did you put something in my water?" 

"If I _had_ roofied you, you wouldn't be asking me that... it'd be you about to take a dick."

Sav levelled a look at Viv, as much as he could at that angle. "Are you bitching about it?" He had a hand wrapped around the base of himself, as if holding back the flood. Tiny nipples tight, balls tight, abs trembling, he was the picture of readiness. It was all Viv could do not to paint Sav's lips, swollen from lust and suction, then and there. 

"Fuck no!" He'd had as much foreplay, hours, months, years, as he could take. Viv threw a leg over Sav's lap and dropped down. Reaching behind himself again, he lined things up and lowered himself a tiny jerk of his hips at a time. Two shades of blue met and held; Viv felt like he was rippling on the inside, shimmying, shivering. He let his jaw hang open, anything to loosen around the thickness so far up inside him. Finally the tension eased a fraction. 

"You gonna just sit there?" gasped Sav. One of his hands was fisted in the back of Viv's hair, the other curled in a claw around his hip. He wasn't still; he thrust upwards and impaled Viv all the way. 

"'S good, so fuckin' good..." They moved together, swing and thud of flesh meeting flesh. Teeth clamped into muscle, deep groans rose to the unseen ceiling. Viv's hips churned, not side to side like Sav had been seeing all day, but the real promise of them, heathen and uninhibited. When he couldn't get enough leverage on his knees, he was up on his toes, bouncing, determined to find the spot that would make him come apart. 

"Yessss... yesss..." Viv had heard by the grapevine that Sav was extremely vocal in bed. This wasn't bed, it was public domain. The fact that he was holding back his natural inclinations to protect them, somehow parallel to Viv carrying a different sort of protection, made it an 'in good faith' act. Deprived of a verbal torrent, Sav's hands were everywhere; his mouth, too, where he could reach. Viv felt like his body was under the most sensual attack. Teeth scraped his shoulders. The underside of his jaw. Nipped his lower lip. Fingers pinched his nipples before ten digits spread out over his chest and back-combed the hair, left and reconvened on both cheeks of his arse. When one finger curiously explored the exact place they were joined while others performed sabotage by finally fisting his deprived cock, Viv knew he was going to come. He was done holding off, holding back; he was going to mark this standoffish, superior, repressed, beautiful motherfucker as his, the others be damned. 

The motion of Viv's ride made good the gibes and teasing he'd been handing out all day. And his face smoothed and de-aged when he released: like every worldly care was gone and there was nothing but ecstasy. "Oh my god... oh my god..." he repeated with every hitch of his body. 

It shouldn't have been a surprise, but finding his belly suddenly coated in warm, sticky streaks, Sav gasped, let out a startled little whine and his eyes rolled back. The soft sound deepened to a groan, then exploded in one strident wail. 

Their straining bodies collapsed, Sav's into a rag doll slouch and Viv's against Sav's like someone had thrown him there. His knees dropped to the cushions. Catching their breath, they looked around, all around at the echoing space and the dissipating, invisible but tangible sex-and-sweat bubble surrounding them, and broke into giggles. Unable to stop, they stifled their laughter against each other's shoulders. "Are we supposed to kiss?" Sav asked stupidly, causing them to dissolve into helpless tittering again.

"Did you fucking yell?" Viv blinked like an owl several times. "That was..." 

"Yeah, probably not the smartest. We should..." Sav made to get up, but could not with Viv still on him. His surprised face was comical. 

As there were no footsteps running in their direction, Viv deemed it safe to spend a minute or two in either giving feedback or making negotiations before the vibe was lost. "Sav... Why did we wait so long...?" 

Considering his answer with two remaining brain cells, Sav replied in a halting voice, "'Cuz it, because I, thought it was all... taking the piss out of each other and that the other part was just me. You've heard about the..." more hand gestures involving a stick and a hole, "between all of us over the years, right?"

"Mm-hm, yep." Yeah, Viv had heard, in some of it in exquisite detail. He nodded. 

Sav went on, "Since you're... I didn't want for you think that you were just an afterthought. Like it was going to happen because it always happened. We're not kids anymore, getting it off with whoever's standing closest when your dick gets hard." 

"Is that how it was?" 

"No, not for me. It always meant something." 

Viv nodded. "Seems I developed some feelins for ye," he said by way of explanation. His brogue had never been thicker. 

"I did, too. It's been a rough couple of years, hiding it, but that's what I do." Sav's expression said he was sorry, to Viv for making him wait and also, for being such a--

"Next time, don't be such a pussy!" Viv snorted. 

Sav looked shocked for a second and a little insulted, then he got it and smacked Viv's ass. His dick chose that moment to plop out, spent and quivering. They both laughed. 

"Ooh! Spank me!" piped Viv. 

"Stop!" groaned Sav. 

"Make me." 

.... 

Joe cocked his head. He'd felt it more than heard it: The sonic frequency of Sav's scream had all the hairs on his arms and legs standing absolutely erect. Phil was looking up at him from under his lashes; Rick stood close behind the guitarist, chin hooked over his shoulder, arm around his waist. Joe shrugged at the invitation they presented, feeling the corners of his mouth turn up, his dimple appearing. _Why not?_

 

Fin.


End file.
